Rain, Rain
by pignapoke
Summary: Hurt!Limp!Sam. But as Sam went to turn, the man had assumed he was running away. So, he shot him.
1. Anger

Rain, Rain

I

"God, Dean. Can this town get any creepier?" Sam muttered under his breath, peering out of the window with unease. He rolled his tongue over the roof of his mouth, finding it dry from not talking. Dean had pissed him off, sending Sam into an immediate period of 'no talking'.

"I win!" Dean threw his fist in the air, gaped at Sam and laughed. Sam simply rolled his eyes, waiting for an explanation that was sure to come.

"What, Dean?"

"The quiet game!" Dean's eyes were wild with excitement.

Sam stared at Dean, mouth ajar, finally crying out, "What are you, five?"

Dean became serious once more, eyeing Sam up with mock disgust. "Did you put your underwear on the wrong way again?"

Sam sighed gently, the breeze from the open window ruffling his hair. _This was going to be fun._

II

He was standing outside, wearily pitying himself over how crappy his day was going. This was not the first time Dean had gotten pissed and left him to find his own way to their newest destination. On foot.

The Impala had sent a billow of dusty smoke his way, making him cough lightly, patting it away with his free hand. He was pretty ticked off. Dean had done this numerous times. He checked his cell phone. It had been an hour. Dean had neither picked up his calls, nor called Sam himself. Apparently, he was more pissed than Sam thought.

He supposed that somewhere, in the way, way, far back corner, desolate and secluded, he could understand. He _had_ been kind of pissy lately. He _was_ a little on-edge and irritated. But, it wasn't Dean's fault. Maybe he could have made it a tad more obvious that there were other reasons for Sam's behavior.

But Dean would not care that Sam had been thinking lately of throwing in the towel. He was not one to give up, but maybe Dean and Sam had deserved to live normal lives. It wasn't even the prospect of quitting completely, because he knew that demons would follow them anywhere, now that they had been exposed to this other life, but they didn't have to chase after the demons, didn't have to research until a strange case came up.

Sure, he wanted to help people. But this hunting crap was starting to get to him. He had other worries, though. How was he supposed to get home? How was he even going to figure out where Dean was? God. Why couldn't Dean just suck it up, take him to the motel, and then ditch him for the rest of the night. He didn't have to leave him here. Nightfall was coming.

He picked up his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and trudged down the highway, tripping over his own two feet.

III

"Dean?" Sam called into the receiver, shouting his name several times. It was the third voicemail he had left, and there was still no answer. He was starting to get very very agitated.

He sighed and gave up, closing the cell phone and slipping it into his pocket. A small car rolled up next to him, and Sam took a step back, feeling awkward.

"Need a lift?" A man called over the passenger seat. He was creepy looking. Dark hair, thin lips curled greedily into a faint smile, cigarette dangling, eyes shooting poison through the pupils.

"Nah, I'm good." Sam smiled weakly. "Thanks, though." He added.

The man seemed hesitant to leave. Before he drove off, he saw a faint flicker of fire dance through the honey brown color of his eyes. Something was not right with that man.

He shook it off. It was nothing. There were tons of creeps all over the world. He didn't have to wig out every time he saw something that wasn't quite perfect. The vibrating caught his attention.

"'Bout time you called, jerk." He practically whined into the phone.

"Shut up, bitch. You're lucky I didn't leave your ass back in Florida." Dean barked. Sam flinched, practically feeling Dean's watchful gaze on him.

"Where are you, Dean?" Sam sighed lightly, eager to get to the motel.

"Oh, quite your whining, Samantha. I'm coming to pick you up now. Haven't walked much, have you?" Dean mimicked.

Sam shook his head, clenching his teeth at the phone. He looked back, finding that Dean was right. He hadn't walked much.

He closed the phone without saying bye. He better hurry. He wasn't sitting here for another hour. It was getting a little chilly. He shivered as more cars drove past him, sending the cool wind in a spiral around his body.

IV

Sam sat down on the side of the road, crossing his legs and cradling his duffel to his chest. He had been waiting for twenty minutes, still as anxious as he was...well, an hour and twenty minutes ago.

Shouting interrupted his train of thought.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide with mixed emotions. A man was standing there, gun in his hand. He had parked his car a few hundred yards from Sam. He shook the gun, mumbling strange things to himself. Sam could not hear him from this distance. Another man entered the picture. He also had a gun. Sam's stomach churned with recognition. The man who had offered him a ride. Surely, criminals had better things to do than pick up hitchhikers.

"Hey! Did I say you could talk!?" The ride guy screamed. He shook his head back and forth. The other man dropped his gun in an instant. Sam was shocked that no cars had stopped. He tried to picture himself in the Impala with Dean. What would _they_ have done?

The gunman stood his ground. The screaming and arguing went on for several more minutes and Sam turned his back to the scene. For a few moments, all was quiet. But Sam flinched quite severely when a gunshot rang through the highway silence. _He killed him._ Sam muttered silently. He was afraid to turn.

His brain stopped working when he did.

The man was hovering above him. While Sam had been discussing this occurence with himself, the man had made his way over to Sam. And now he was too afraid to do anything. He weighed his options.

There was no use in calling Dean. He was on his way as it is. If he called the police, they would arrive no faster than Dean would. If he ran, well, he would surely get shot. But, where else was he supposed to go?

He saw the glorious Impala cruise up to Sam, but stop suddenly when Dean noted the gunman, very close to Sam's body. Too close. Dean stared wide-eyed at the scene.

For a split second, Sam wanted to turn and try to knock the gun out of the man's hand. But, he simply could not do that. He had to just...walk away. Maybe if he did not say anything to the man, he would do nothing in return.

But as Sam went to turn, the man had assumed he was running away. So, he shot him.

That split second changed everything.

V

Sam felt the heat before he felt the pain. It was an odd sensation, feeling the heated metal ripple through his body, tearing through muscle, bone, and raw flesh. It grazed him just below his kidneys, soaring through the abdominal and lower back tissue. Dean forced his way out of the Impala almost in slow motion, the event splaying out in reverse. Time stopped.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Sam fell almost elegantly on the asphalt. The gunman ran. He did what anybody else would do.

He did not feel the intense pain that he had been expecting he would. Dean's hands were on the side of Sam's. He hovered above him, glowing slightly from the lights along the highway.

"D..ean..." Sam croaked out. He sounded much weaker than he felt. Of course, the gunshot wound stung like a bitch, and he was sure he'd feel the full effect of it tomorrow morning, but he really just wanted to sleep. The bullet had went right through him. It was kind of gross.

"No...h-hospitals." Dean chomped down on his bottom lip. He _had_ to take Sam to a hospital. There was no way he was going to...

"Please." Ah, but how could he ignore that honeysuckle voice? He knew Sam would be even more pissed at Dean than vice-versa just hours before.

"Hey. I'll take you to the motel. But, if I feel like you need to go to the hospital, that's exactly where you'll be heading. Okay, Sasquatch?" Dean forced a smile, lifting Sam up gently.

It was harder than he made it seem. Sam was not cooperating in the 'distribute your weight' department, and Dean found it to be quite the struggle to carry Sam while he was breathing heavily and clamping his hand down on his wound.

"Wanna help me here, tubby?" Dean groaned. "Not as easy as it looks." He moaned through a husky voice.

Sam cried out with relief as Dean eased him into the passenger side of the Impala. Dean immediately gave Sam his jacket, wrapping it gingerly around his lower torso before Sam leaned against the back of the seat. He winked at him.

"Sorry, no blood on my interior."

_TBC..._


	2. Regret

Rain, Rain

A/N: I'm surprised at how many reviews I got! Hopefully you will all enjoy the next chapter I have for you!

I

Dean knew he had to assess Sam's wound much more thoroughly once they got to the motel. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he saw Sam squirm in his peripheral vision. He shouldn't have been so pissy with him. It seemed like every time Dean lost his temper, Sam got hurt. He couldn't lose him.

"How ya holding up, kiddo?" Dean asked, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. He desperately wanted to take Sam to the hospital. There was no way he was okay from the gunshot wound. But, Sam had insisted. And he knew from past experiences that when Sam was comfortable, he healed better. And besides, if anything went wrong he could always take him to the hospital.

Sam sighed weakly, lifting his hand to examine the wound. It oozed slowly, not quite soaking through Dean's leather coat, but pretty much destroying it.

"I'm good, Dean." Dean guessed he was alright. His breathing was a little shallow, his skin was a little too milky white, and his posture was sagging and uncomfortable looking. He was sure his younger brother could use some rest.

Dean shifted slightly in his seat, trying to focus his eyes on the road. It twisted and turned, leading to more highway signs and small towns, but they still had another twenty minutes to go until they were at the motel. He was itching with anticipation. The guilt he had felt from this whole mess was penetrating his tough exterior and he wanted to get Sam home as soon as possible to make sure he was going to be okay. He was feeling pretty badly about this. He was glad that he was always the one person that could save Sam, but in his mind, he was so pissed that there was saving to be done to begin with. He didn't want Sam to _need_ saving. He didn't want him to be in this kind of condition.

He had been lost in his thought for some time, noting that Sam had fallen asleep after a few minutes. He let him rest, wallowing over the thought that he'd have to wake him up once they got to the motel.

II

"Come on, man. Time to wake up, sleepy head." Dean cooed gently, nudging Sam's shoulder to wake him up. Sam rubbed his eyes sleepily, the pain in his lower back not quite subsiding, sending a sharp flare around to his abdomen.

"Hey, take it easy." Dean reminded him lightly. He eased him out of the passenger side and lifted him, tugging his arm around his shoulders in one swift movement. He carefully led him to the motel.

"Alright, Sam. I need you to be tough through this part. We've gotta make sure the guy at the counter doesn't suspect anything."

Sam nodded, stiffening. With difficulty, he walked on his own, not quite standing upright. He felt like he'd burst at the seams any minute now, but with Dean's hand on the center of his back, guiding him, it was easier. They walked past the man, slowly. Sam cleared his throat, urging his body to go faster. He couldn't deal with the questioning. Dean's jacket was zipped up over him now, his wounds were not visible.

He quickened his pace, smiling forcefully at the man when he looked up at them, eyeing them suspiciously.

"You boys alright?" He spoke quietly, his voice had an edge of concern to it. Sam cringed. He should have been able to pull it together better.

"We're fine, thanks." Sam waved his hand at the man, a simple gesture that formed a lump in his throat. The burning would not go away. Dean's hand was now around his waist, gripping his good side firmly, eager to steer him out of the man's vision so he could help his brother.

The got to the elevator. Sam leaned his head against the wall once it closed. Dean hurriedly pressed '3' and returned to his brother's side, hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Dean pressed. Sam looked very uncomfortable and in pain. He swallowed the lump in his throat, opened his eyes so he could face his brother, and grinned halfheartedly.

"Some bastard shot me, Dean." He stated. Dean grinned back, but his face still had 'guilty' written all over it, for the world to see.

But Sam couldn't, wouldn't, didn't see it.

He just gazed at him thankfully, as if he were grateful that Dean had come to his rescue, when it was _his_ fault he had gotten shot in the first place. If Dean had composed himself better, Sam would be okay. They'd be on their hunt, killing some demon, bringing out the Winchester power, their brute force, anything but this. The fact that Sam didn't blame Dean at all only made him feel more guilty.

III

They rushed as fast as they could into their room. Dean sat Sam down on the bed, easing the coat and shirt off. He immediately pulled out the first aid kid that was always in one of their duffels. There was no bullet, so Sam had that to be thankful for. Dean wouldn't have to cause his brother more pain by digging around in his muscle tissure of a bullet.

Sam rested his eyes, slouching forward slightly. A dull throbbing had worked its way into his lower back, the muscles screaming at him.

Dean pulled the rubbing alcohol out and a rag. Cotton balls just wouldn't do the trick. Again, with the guilt.

"Sorry, Sammy, but this is gonna sting a little." He frowned, dabbing away. Sam's brow creased, the stress lines aging him instantly. He clenched his fists together, chomped down on his teeth, a small whimper escaped his lips.

Dean tried to shrug it off, tried to pretend he didn't hear anything. He would much rather be deaf than hear his brother in pain. Hell, at this rate, he'd rather be blind, too.

After cleaning out the wound and assuring himself-and Sam, for that matter-that no infection would occur, he went to wrapping it up. This was not an easy task, considering the wound had mainly punctured his lower back, but had also injured the parallel in his abdomen. He pulled out the thickest pads of gauze, placing them first over his lower back. Sam clung to the end table as Dean worked the gauze over the wound, securing it in place with medical tape. Next, he went on to the wound in his abdomen. The gauze was secured there. No more than a whimper escaped Sam's lips, as he would feel weak to show defeat to his tough brother.

But, right now, seeing Sam like this, Dean felt that Sam was somehow stronger. The smell of Sammy's blood burned his nose.

IV

Sam laid down on his chest, gingerly. It was hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in. After Jess had died, Sam had found that he was only ever comfortable sleeping on his back, but that was much too painful. And although sleeping on his stomach was more comfortable, he felt a lack of security, less mental comfort.

Dean eyed his brother, searching for any sign of anger he might have. But still, there was none. He still did not blame Dean. Instead, he smiled warmly at him, gently.

Sam looked like a child. His porcelain face was full of pure innocence, his milk chocolate eyes peering back at him in the night. He couldn't stand it.

"Go to sleep, Sammy."

"I can't, Dean." He sounded frustrated.

Dean sighed, getting out of his own bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Sam, I'm sorry about all of this." He knew it was selfish, but having Sam realize how truly sorry he was would help _him_ sleep better.

"Dean." Sam shook his head briefly. "I don't blame you. The guy was a psycho, there was nothing you could have done."

He kind of had a point. The guy wasn't even a demon. He realized with a pang of defeat that he wasn't nearly as prepared for the real world as he was for the demonic one. This wasn't even supernatural, it was just a random act of crime that happened everywhere in the world. Jail time wouldn't be good enough.

V

Dean waited on the edge of Sam's bed, rubbing his palm over the backs of his shoulders, until he was fast asleep, snoring lightly. He knew that Sam was going to need some down time, and he was sure that looking into the shooter would give him something to do.

He was, without a doubt, going to find the bastard that did this to his little brother. There was no way in hell that some dumb ass cops were going to be able to punish him the way he needed to be punished.

This man was a killer.

There was a knock on the motel door.

Dean got up, crept slowly, grabbing rock salt along the way and stuffing it into the back of his pocket. Maybe this guy was a demon after all, back for revenge.

'How ironic' Dean muttered to himself. Dumb ass cops.

_TBC..._


	3. Guilt

Rain, Rain

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone!

I

"'Evening, sir. We're with the Banter Police Station." The cop paused, flashed his ID like he was 'the man'. "I'm Sheriff Camden, this is my partner Jim."

Dean nodded briefly, after shaking hands with both cops. His heart was pounding against his chest. What if they did some weird criminal scanning of the blood on the highway and found it was Sam's?

Jim turned to Camden and muttered, "Storm's here, sir." The rain had started coming down in sheets now. It turned very dark almost instantly.

Dean sighed with obvious relief. He hoped that the rain would wash away his little brother's blood before someone found it. Sick thought.

"There was an occurence about two hours ago. Shooting. We have to question everyone about it. Guy at the counter told us you had returned from somewhere recently."

Dean's heart stopped. What would he do if they found out?

"Um. Yeah. I went to the store."

"The guy also said you weren't alone." Camden's eyes narrowed.

"Right. I went to the store...for my brother...'been feeling under the weather lately."

"Uh huh." Both cops looked back at each other. "Well, here's our card. Make sure you give us a call if you...have any information."

Dean held it in his trembling hands. He gave the cops a false smile. "Will do."

II

God. That was close. Too close. He slipped into the bedroom and found Sam in bed, whimpering. He sat down on the edge of the bed and felt the back of his forehead. He was burning up. Maybe the whole hospital thing would be a good idea right about now.

He shot up instantly and brought a quivering hand to his back as a moan escaped his lips. Jesus Christ, it hurt. White hot pains flashed through his body.

"Hey, hey. Calm down." Dean said, steadying his brother. He noted how pained he looked. His back arched forward, his hands gripped at his head. He pushed him back down on the bed gently.

"You okay, kiddo?" Stupid question. Of course he wasn't okay. The kid just got shot.

Sam nodded, biting down on his lip.

Dean brushed back the hair on his forehead. His temperature had gone down slightly. He seemed to be regaining his health from the restless sleep. He just wished he could have been unconscious longer.

Sam laid there, squirming at how uncomfortable. He was frustrated that he had turned onto his back while he was sleeping, and it took him some time to get back on his stomach. It hurt.

Dean eased Sam onto his side, rubbed his hand up and down his arm gently. Sam's breathing was labored, the physical activity exhausted him.

Dean let him sleep. It overtook him quickly. He stayed there at his side for a few moments, making sure nightmares would not plague him anymore, and slipped into his own bed, where he could get lost in his thoughts.

It was times like these that got Dean all quizzical. He had to be racking his brain like this in order to solve whatever was going on. He was almost positive that the cops would make another appearance, which only made him want to leave this place as soon as he could. Surely, Sam would be okay with sitting in the car.

He drifted off to sleep with that thought in mind. They'd head out in the morning.

III

Sam gripped the comforter and hugged it close to his chest. He had been sobbing for quite some time now. He had no idea how he was going to tell Dean.

He heard the constant ticking of the clock on the wall in the next room. It was so loud. It vibrated through his ears like a megaphone.

He was so tired, but this new obstacle he had to overcome would not let him sleep. He couldn't see himself sleeping for a long time because of this.

He wondered what it would have been like if he had never been shot. What if him and Dean were good, just sitting in the car, riding home, talking about their new hunt. Nothing would have happened.

_This_ would not have happened.

He grimaced, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to talk to Dean. A huge part of him needed to share this. He would obviously find out about it in the morning.

Could he even wait that long? It was _too_ long. Too long for him, anyway. Dean would want to know as soon as possible.

Dean was snoring peacefully, so Sam decided to leave it that way. He knew he needed the rest, he could tell.

What was he going to do?

IV

He was obviously awake when Dean woke from his slumber. He propped himself up on one elbow and glanced over at his brother.

"Morning sushine. How ya feeling?" Simple question. Didn't need much thought.

Sam hesitated. It was now or never. Either Sam spilled the beans now, or Dean found out. He'd be pissed if Sam told him he was okay. He wouldn't understand how Sam had kept this secret from him. How could he _not_? He couldn't just blurt it out. He felt it was his duty to at least give Dean a good night's sleep. No point in worrying about now.

"Uh.." Sam bit down on his lip. Tears sprouted in the corners of his eyes.

Dean got out of bed very quickly, eager to get to Sam.

"What is it, Sammy?" His voice was laced with concern.

Tears flowed gently know, the wetness on his face shining in the moonlight.

"Dean..." He cried out in agony. This was too hard. He just couldn't tell him.

He was getting impatient. He didn't want to force it out of him, but at this rate, he'd have to.

Sam pulled the covers off of himself with difficulty and started crying even more.

"I...I can't feel my legs."

_TBC..._

A/N: Oooh! A twist! Make sure you push that little purple button. I'd like to see everyone's reaction to this!


	4. Frustration

Rain, Rain

A/N: I'm glad you guys were so eager about this next chapter! I hope it was worth the wait!

A/N: Thanks to IheartSam7 for pointing out a careless mistake! Haha.

I

"What do you mean you can't feel you legs?" Dean stared at him blankly. His heart thumped against his chest like a drum. He was surprised Sam couldn't hear it.

"I...I can't m-move 'em, Dean." Sam shook his head. He had composed himself better when Dean was sleeping, but now he's making him think. What if he loses all mobility?

Dean swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He couldn't lose the use of his legs, he just couldn't. He was on Sam's bed in a frenzy, rubbing his hands rapidly over his calves.

Sam shook his head. "'Can't feel it." It was hopeless. Why should Dean even bother?

"Damnit." Dean cried out, pressing his fingertips into the heels of his feet. Sam shook his head hurriedly, sobbing. "Shit, Sammy." He screamed. Sam was too good for this, he _had_ to feel something. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Dean pounded his fist into the soft abyss of the mattress and held his head in his hands.

This is it. His little baby brother will never be able to walk. And it was all Dean's fault. It was his fault that Sam was in this mess, and it was his job to fix it. But, hell, he couldn't fix paralysis.

"We've gotta get you to the hospital. Now." Dean declared, scooping Sam into his arms. He had to suck it up, despite the amount of muscle mass Sam had compared to himself. He stumbled, but there was no way Sam would be able to get out otherwise.

They took the elevator, obviously, and Sam was still trembling from crying, and he was embarassed to have his smaller, older brother carry him. He was a cripple, disabled. Fuck.

The guy at the counter merely looked up at them, then back down at his paperwork. 'Good for nothing', Dean mumbled under his breath. He opened the door to the Impala and eased Sam into the passenger side, making sure he was comfortable.

He then hopped in on his side and started the car, driving away very quickly.

II

He had a good story for the doctors. Quick, witty. The doctors called for a stretcher in a frenzy and Sam was taken away on it. He wouldn't tear his eyes from Dean's face, and Dean had to look away because of the constant guilt nagging at him.

Time went by very slowly.

"Mr. Richards?" He flinched. He had completely forgotten about the false names they used for insurance.

"Yeah?" He asked, never bothering to look up at the doctor. He was standing right in front of him, hand extended.

"My name is Dr. Carmichael." He paused, awaiting Dean's return of his handshake. Dean did so, finally decided to peer up at the tall doctor. He was a blonde, about 40 years old, young features, but aged by stress lines. He held the traditional clipboard at his waist, flipping up a paper to glance down at Sam's stats.

"The bullet that passed through your brother's body grazed one of his lumbar vertebrae, which is in his lower back. " The doctor paused, Dean winced. His thoughts trailed away momentarily. He thought about the bullet, his little brother's spine. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that 55 of spinal cord injuries occur in people from age 16-30. Sammy was just another statistic.

"He is in Class C as far as paralysis goes. We had him taken into surgery to get rid of the inflammation around his spinal cord. This relieved some pressure. He can move his legs, but not very well. We're going to have him taken to physical therapy within the week, because the swelling will have gone down significantly. We're hoping to release him within the next 3 weeks, and by then he'll be at a Class D."

Dean took in all this information, paying close attention to each thing the doctor said. Okay, so Sammy would be alright.

"Class D?"

"Yes. Class D means he will be able to walk on his legs. We'll send him home with crutches, a wheel chair, and standard leg braces to help with his mobility. He's very lucky. It could have been worse." He nodded sympathetically, as if he knew what Dean was going through right now.

Lucky.

Dean shook his head slowly. He wasn't lucky. He'd be going to physical therapy, which hurt like a bitch, he'd be hospitalized, which he hated, and he'd never forgive Dean for having this happen.

Lucky? Hah.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course."

III

There were tubes and wires everywhere. Dean shuddered as he entered the hospital room. He couldn't stand to his brother dependent like this. He was sure Sam didn't like it either. He was always uncomfortable in hospitals. He looked peaceful, though. The creases in his forehead from stress, pain and anxiety had withered away to nothing, revealing his smooth complex once more. His breathing was steady, it showed the continuous up and down on the heart rate monitor. He looked tired, worn out, but peaceful.

He opened his eyes slowly. They had that sort of brotherly connection. They just knew. He looked around, groggily. His eyes rested on Dean, and he smiled.

"How d'you feel?" Dean asked, pulling the stool up towards the edge of Sam's bed.

He simply nodded, grateful that Dean was by his side.

"Hurt anywhere?" Dean knew he had to be in pain. He was sure of it.

"M'back hurts like a bitch." Dean rested a hand comfortingly on Sam's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I can imagine." He said gruffly. Deep down, he knew that he had been the cause of this pain.

"How about your legs?" He inquired. Hopefully, Sam could feel something. Anything.

"They're...okay, I guess. I can't lift them. When I try, it only makes my back hurt even more." He sounded defeated, as if he'd never walk again. It was easy to tell that he was frustrated by this lack of mobility.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I should have taken you here sooner." Dean pulled his hand away, retreated.

Sam shook his head, defiant. "No, Dean. Don't do that. You know as well as I do that you did what _I_ wanted. We couldn't have known that this would happen."

It didn't matter what Sam said. He knew it was his fault.

IV

Sam rested comfortably for the next few days. Dean had gradually become happier, mainly for his brother's sake. Sam was going to go for his first physical therapy session today. Dean was nervous, Sam was pissed.

"I really don't want to go, Dean." Sam was definitely not looking forward to this new wave of pain he'd feel.

"It'll help, Sammy. Doc says you're improving. At least you can go to the bathroom on your own now." He grinned.

"Hardly." His tone was dry, hard. He _was_ improving, and he could stand on his own. He walked very slowly, mainly with the aid of his brother or a doctor, but it was still walking.

The physical therapist walked in, interrupting their conversation. She was attractive, early 30s, brunette, the black rimmed glasses that had Dean thinking back to when he used to dream of 'hot teachers'. Dean's eyes lit up as he winked at Sam. Sam just rolled his eyes. He could pretty much guarantee himself that he'd hate her by the time he was done with physical therapy. After all, she would be the one stretching the muscles he'd rather not stretch.

"Sam Richards?" She called out, taking in the disheveled appearances of both boys. Sam smiled warmly at her. She smiled back. "I'm Alyssa Wicks. You can just call me Alyssa. I'll be your physical therapist."

Dean took the chance almost immediately after she was done speaking to flirt. "Nice to meet you Alyssa, I'm Dean." He shoved his hand in her face and she shook it, still smiling. She must have gotten that alot. She shook Sam's hand, then. He grinned at her. He wasn't flirtatious like Dean was. After Jess, he just didn't feel the need to go out and hunt for woman. He wouldn't steer clear of admitting she was attractive, though.

"Alright, I want to start by assessing you." Time to play doctor. "Can you stand for me?"

Sam slipped out of the bed, and raised his hand to Dean, making sure he didn't attempt to help him. He needed to prove to himself that he could do this. He pushed himself up off the bed and stood, back slightly arched. Alyssa nodded approvingly and scratched some notes onto her clipboard.

"Good, good. Can you walk towards me?" She was maybe 20 feet away-a distance that didn't seem far to anyone else, but to Sam, it was pretty rough. He started walking towards her, feeling comfortable, despite the slow pace at which he was moving. She did not seem bothered by it. He felt good. He walked to her with a fair amount of ease.

"Excellent." She grabbed a hold of his arm and steered him back to the bed. He laid down, exhausted, but smiling from ear to ear. As Sam laid back down and grinned at Dean, she started pressing her fingers into Sam's legs.

"I need you to let me know if I hurt you at all." She stated, then proceeded to continue with the examination. Her fingers felt soft to the touch as she rubbed them over his feet, up his calves, and over his knees. They twitched, but there was no pain.

"Very, very good." She sounded impressed, which Sam feel even better.

"Okay. I'm going to take you to the physical therapy room now. I recommend that you use the wheelchair. It will be exhausted." She sounded sympathetic. Sam wondered if she knew what this kind of pain felt like.

V

Sam groaned in agony. Alyssa and him had been going at it for an hour. It was ridiculously painful. His legs felt like they'd be easier to walk on, so he knew that it was working, but Jesus...

"I think we're done for today." Alyssa sighed, appreciative that Sam hadn't given up. She didn't want him pushing himself too far. He laid his head back and moaned. His back was absolutely killing him. She reached her hand out to him, ready to pull him up. He shook his head.

"No...not now...please." He was so exhausted.

Alyssa sighed sympathetically. "It's easier to get up while you're body is still in 'move mode'. It'll hurt more if you lay there, believe me."

"Aurgh." Sam cried out. White hot pains shot down his back.

"Take it easy." She cooed, the tone of her voice was delicate, like a child. She wheeled him into his hospital room, where Dean helped him into bed.

Alyssa asked Dean to step out of the room.

"How's he doing?" Dean asked.

"He's doing very well. Physical therapy is going to be pretty intense. He's experiencing some bad pains in his back, which is natural. We're going to keep working on the therapy for another week or two." She nodded. "The outcome is very good. Regaining full mobility is very possible."

Dean smiled. "That's great." He reached out to shake her hand again. "Thank you. So much. I really appreciate it."

She smiled again, gave Sam a wave, and turned on her heel.

"See you tomorrow." She called back to them.

"Man, she is hot." Dean clucked.

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to Dean. He could tell he was in a lot of pain. Even the painkillers he had been given would not ease it. Dean heard him sniffle a few times. He was crying, and Dean didn't blame him. It must've been a pain Dean couldn't imagine. He sighed and unwillingly went into chick flick territory.

He sat down next to his younger brother and wrapped an arm around to his back.

"Hey. It'll be okay." He spoke softly.

Sam nodded. "Just hurts." Dean's heart shattered into a million pieces. His voice sounded so weak, broken, fragile.

Dean brought his hand to Sam's upper back and kneaded his sore muscles. He didn't want to further injure his lower back. He continued when there were no groans of protest on Sam's part. His muscles felt like rocks beneath Dean's fingertips. They loosened quickly, and Sam realized how tired he was. Dean noticed it too.

"Come on, let's get you to bed, champ." He helped him lay down, pulled the covers up to his chin.

Sam smiled weakly, grateful that Dean was trying his best to ease his pain.

"Thanks, Dean."

"Don't thank me, Sam. I already know I'm the world's best brother."

_TBC..._


	5. Pain

Rain, Rain

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reviewing. The more you guys review, the faster I get the chapters up! I need to hear what you guys like/ don't like and what you want to see!

I

To put it in simple terms, Sam was in a hell of a lot of pain.

His legs were throbbing, trembling from being used too much. Sharp, white-hot pains soared through his back. The pain was not only from the gunshot wound, but the base of his spine throbbed from his legs and hips hurting, and the list just went on.

He wanted to listen to the doctors, to take the required meds, do the physical therapy, not to push himself too hard. But, Sam didn't like taking meds, hated physical therapy, and pushed himself harder than he should because he was so damn anxious to get out of here. Sam smiled mentally that Dean didn't catch on. He'd be out of here soon.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his hips aching with the movement. As he stood up, black spots clouded his vision and he needed to grab on to the frame of the bed to keep himself steady. A wave of both nausea and dizziness overtook him. He glanced over at his brother, who was sleeping peacefully, head resting on the edge of the bed, arms folded under his cheek. He snored lightly, obviously not aware of Sam moving about. He went into the bathroom, and found it was difficult, even to pee. He finished up and washed his hands, wincing as his back throbbed from bending the slightest bit. He let out a frustrated sigh.

He stood up and dried his hands and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. He twisted the lock back and forth, eliminating the option of him forgetting about locking the door. It was simply stuck at the hinges. 'Oh great.' Sam groaned. He pulled it, tugged at it, his body shook with pain.

Sweat formed at his hairline and he was about ready to call for Dean's help when the door gave way with one final pull. He flew backwards, his back taking the blow against the bathtub.

"Shit." He mumbled, the stars returning behind his eyelids. He laid there on the ground, waiting until he regained enough strength to get himself upright. His breathing was very rapid, his heart beat erratic against his heaving chest. The pain in his back was getting to be unbearable, he could feel consciousness slipping away.

"Sammy!?" Dean ran through the doorway, the sleep still obvious in his eyes. It did not surprise Sam that Dean had heard the thump from Sam's fall. He was just hoping he would have been able to get up before Dean entered the room. He pushed his hands up off of the cold tile and tried lifting his body up, but he just couldn't will his limbs to work. His face was flushed and his insides squirmed.

"Sammy, are you hurt?" Dean sat down next to his brother and wrapped his arms around him, careful not to injure him further. He pressed his sore body into his and sighed, breathing into his hair. "You scared me."

Sam squirmed under his touch for a moment, willing the pain to go away. He relaxed into his embrace. He'd rather be uncomfortable in his brother's arms, then be comfortable all alone. Dean pulled away suddenly, and pressed the call button near the toilet.

"Nurse'll be here soon." Dean whispered, rocking his brother back and forth. Sam's eyes closed slowly as unconsciousness lingered at the surface of his mind. He shook his head at Dean's comment.

"No. No nurse. I'm fine." Sam persisted. Dean would have agreed under normal circumstances, but there was no way Sam was gonna get off the hook with this one.

"She's already coming, Sammy. Suck it up and let us help you." His tone was rough and gentle at the same time. Sam knew he was only looking out for him.

The nurse rushed into the room. "Oh, my. What did you get yourself into, sweetie?" She mumbled. Her name was Emery. She was a kind older lady who had taken to the boys quickly. She motioned for another doctor to come to them. It was Dr. Carmichael.

"Aw, Dean. What happened?" Dr. Carmichael sighed. He bent down and lifted Sam up under his arms. Dean braced Sam's hips and pulled him up. It was done in one swift motion.

"Sammy here decided to break down the door. You should get that fixed, hinges stick." Dean noted, paying careful attention to his brother's complexion. He had dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious the pain had been too much for him, especially at night when sleep was needed. He braced his arm around Sam's shoulders and he let Dean take most of his weight, giving in to the weightlessness of his body.

"Easy." Dr. Carmichael pressed, easing Sam onto the bed. He tapped his finger gently against his clipboard. "I'm going to increase your pain medication for the fall you took." He scribbled something down and nodded towards Emery. She left the room in a hurry.

"Is there anything you can get for him if he's having trouble sleeping, too?" Dean blurted out. The doctor would need to know about everything, and Sam needed to heal.

Sam's mouth was ajar. "I'm not having trouble sleeping! Dean.!" He didn't even say anything to him!

"Shut up, Samantha. I can tell. You've got bags under your eyes, you constantly look exhausted." Dean shook his head impatiently.

Dr. Carmichael spoke up. "Sam, is this true?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the movement. "I guess." He mumbled.

"Alright." He paused and moistened his lips. "Well, I'll give you one of the medications that make you drowsy as well. You can take it at night and sleeping should be easier for you."

"Thank you." Dean said when Sam didn't speak up.

II

"Alright, Sam. Extend your leg and push on my hand." Alyssa instructed. Sam pushed weakly, the frustation over how little he was pushing overwhelmed him. He laid his head back against the mat, his back arching. Alyssa frowned.

"I know it hurts, but we only have a few more sessions and then you'll be able to move around on your own, okay?" She sighed sympathetically. Sam nodded as he gritted his teeth, pushing as hard as he could against Alyssa's ready hand. He progressed through her pep talk and found himself smiling through the frustration.

"You're doing very well, Sam. Your resisting more, that's good." She smiled warmly at him and he grinned back. He pushed even harder this time and her eyebrows flew up in excitement.

He was pushing himself, though. And each time he pushed harder a new wave of pain overtook him. But, he couldn't tell Dean and he couldn't tell Alyssa. If they found out how badly he was struggling with this, they'd just extend his stay in the hospital, and he was eagerly awaiting the day when they released him.

Alyssa sighed lightly. "I think that's enough for today. You're improving very quickly."

Sam rested his head against the mat for a moment longer as Alyssa packed away the supplies. Sam pushed himself up and swayed dizzily on his feet. His vision was clouded. _Suck it up, _he told himself. He wasn't a baby, he could handle a little pain.

_Yeah, but this much?_ He answered himself. He shook his head, shrugging it off. It was no big deal.

III

"Sam, I think we'll be able to release you Thursday morning." Dr. Carmichael grinned down at the brothers. Dean winked at Sam and smiled broadly.

"There you go, Sammy. Two days and we can blow this popsicle stand." Sam couldn't help but chuckle at this remark. He was excited. Tomorrow was his last physical therapy appointment as a patient. He'd still have to return once every week afterwards, but on Thursday, he was free to go.

"I'll send you boys home with a bag of all the medicines you'll need for the home care. Dean, I'll make sure to go over all of the procedures with you. It shouldn't be too hard to follow."

"Gotcha, Doc." Dean grinned.

"Alright. I'll be in tomorrow for another basic evaluation, and then Thursday will roll around and you boys will be free to go."

Sam felt a little resentment towards himself. He knew he shouldn't be going home Thursday. It was too early. He knew that he put up a good front, but the pain was really starting to get to him, even with the pain meds he had been taking. Maybe once they got home, he'd be alright. Dean was right. He did heal better where he was comfortable.

But, one thing still nagged him. What the hell happened to the guy who shot him?

**Push the review button! Push it, I dare you:D**


	6. Hope

Rain, Rain

A/N: Thank you guys so so much for reviewing! If I get a lot of reviews on this chapter, I'll put another one up today!

I

"Banter Police Department, this is Sheriff Camden."

"Ah, just the man I was looking for. This is Dean Win..._Richards_." Dean almost slipped subconsciously, forgetting their pseudonym.

"What can I do for you?" Camden's voice sounded false, it was lacking enthusiasm, like a recording.

"Um, right. I was just wondering if you ever caught that guy...the shooter." Dean squeezed the last two words in, trying to sound specific, but not too knowledgeable.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. He's still on the loose." Dean's heart faltered slightly. He couldn't tell Sam.

"Oh. Right. Uh...thank you." Dean hung up very quickly and stared at the phone. The guy was still a threat.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, shuffling slowly into the room. His back was arched forward slightly, legs barely lifting off of the ground as he walked.

"No one." Dean shrugged, shoving his cell phone into his pocket. He noticed how pale Sam looked.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, pissed that he let his guard down. He could not be vulnerable, even for a second.

"Yeah. Alyssa's just working me hard." He gave Dean a reassuring smile and rubbed absent mindedly at his back. His muscles were on fire, screaming at him. _'One more day and I'm out of here'._ He told himself.

"Your back hurt?" Dean guessed, eyes taking in Sam's pained face.

"Nope." He pulled his hand away, wincing internally at the throb of pain.

Dean inched forward. He reached his hand out towards his brother's arm, eyes laced with concern.

He was jumpy, though, and Sam jolted abruptly, crashing into the doorway. He twitched involuntarily and groaned as an onslaught of pain pulsed through his back and legs.

He didn't want to refuse his brother's touch, but he was just so damn paranoid lately. He'd do anything to make sure he was home. He hated hospitals.

Dean knelt down and scooped Sam up in his arms, cradling him against his body.

"I said I was fine." Sam panted, gritting his teeth. Dean trembled from the shock. He was not used to this kind of Sammy. He would never have pulled away like that, careful not to have Dean touch him. Even if he was kinda on-edge, it'd be for a reason. He'd just have to try to find that reason out.

"Shit." Dean pounded his fist against the floor. Maybe, for now, he'd have to give in to Sam's wishes to fulfill his needs. It seemed like everytime he tried to argue with him for his own health, it only damaged Sam even further. He racked his brain for possible solutions. "You want the nurse?" He mumbled.

Sam shook his head, typically.

"Alright." He really wanted the nurse to check him out after his fall, but if Sam needed Dean to back off with the 'mother hen' act, so be it. "Let's get you to the bed, then."

Sam complied, letting Dean take most of his weight as he lifted him and brought him to his bed. He sat down on the edge and Dean plopped down next to him. He rubbed lazy circles over Sam's lower back, fingers tracing over the damaged muscle in an attempt to ease the pain.

He wondered why Sam had jumped like that. It still saddened Dean to think that Sam was afraid of him, didn't trust him or his touch. Emery walked in on them and eyed the boys up.

"Everything all right in here?" She asked, her soothing voice like honey. Her eyes turned to Dean, who had his hand on Sam's back, rubbing gently over his skin.

"We're good, Emery. Thanks." She nodded and rushed out, giving them a little wave.

"You good?" Dean asked his brother. Sam nodded and sighed, trying to concentrate on the comfort of Dean's touch rather than the pain.

"Do you still want to leave tomorrow, or stay a little longer?" Dean was hoping he'd choose the latter of the two, but it was a false hope. Dean already knew Sam's answer before he said it.

"I said I was good, Dean. We're leaving tomorrow." His voice was rough for a moment, the harsh words catching on the jagged edges of his vocal cords like shark teeth.

"Okay, Princess. No need to be a bitch."

"You got it, jerk." They both smiled and Dean got up to start packing their things for the morning, thankful that the mood had lightened slightly. They were both silent for a while until Dean finally had the nerve to further question his brother.

"You _sure_ you're okay, Sammy? That was a pretty nasty fall." Dean asked casually, packing his clothes into their duffel bag.

"Yes, mommy. I'm fine." Sam cocked an eyebrow at his brother, eager for the questioning to be over.

Dean was just eager for this to be over and done with.

II

Thursday rolled around very quickly. The night had fallen soon after Sam's fall and he had been resting comfortably in bed, accompanied by Dean, who's head was hanging down on his chest. They both woke up to a crashing sound. Dean thought it was Sam.

"What the hell-" He looked up and saw Sam still laying in bed, laughing at him.

"What?" Dean spat out. He seriously thought Sam had taken a fall again.

"Dude. The look on your face was priceless." He snapped.

Emery walked in, her face flushed. "Sorry if I woke you, boys. Seems one of the patients doesn't quite know how to use crutches." She shook her head and huffed away.

"She's such a cute lady." Dean noted, smiling as she walked away.

"Yeah, I've got the hots for 60 year olds too, Dean. Make sure you share."

Dean blushed a little, cocking an eyebrow at how Sam was quipping remarks at him like it was routine. He never joked around like that. _He must be feeling better._

Alyssa walked in on the two, followed by Dr. Carmichael. He peered down at them.

"Well, boys. I've got your discharge papers here, and once we process them, you'll be good to go." He grinned at them. Alyssa spoke up.

"Sam, I'm going to give you this schedule for the next two months of physical therapy." She said casually, pulling out a sheet of paper.

Sam gaped at her. "Two _months_?"

"Standard procedure for someone with your problem. Don't worry, over time it won't be as grueling. You'll do just fine." She smiled at him. He sighed, but returned the smile. Frustration ebbed through his mind.

Sam got out of bed and shook Dr. Carmichael's hand. "Thank you, Dr. Carmichael." Dean followed after him, doing the same.

He nodded at them both and turned to Sam. "Hopefully, we'll never see you around here unless it's for physical therapy." He smiled knowingly and turned to leave after handing Dean the meds he had promised.

"There's a muscle relaxer in there along with the pain meds. Sam, if you're muscles freeze up, take that and they should be fine within a half hour, okay?"

"Thank you again Doc." Dean called after him. Alyssa stood in front of them.

"Okay, Sam. So I'll see you this Tuesday for physical therapy, right?" She smiled. She had really enjoyed getting to know the 'Richards'' They had been quite the characters. It was just a shame that they had to be in here at such a young age.

"You got it, Alyssa." Dean smirked at her and extended his hand. "Thanks, Doc. Glad you took care of my little brother."

She returned the handshake and grinned. "I'm gonna give you boys my cell number. I want you to call me if you need _anything_. Okay? Don't hesitate to call." She slipped them a piece of paper and left the room.

"I'll see you on Tuesday!"

"Man, she is so hot." Dean's eyes were wild with excitement.

III

"Ready?" Dean asked.

"Ready."

They headed out of the hospital and ran into Emery on the way.

"It's been good, Emery. We'll be back to visit for Sammy's physical therapy." Dean smiled at her. She pulled Dean into a hug, then gave Sam one too. Though Sam's was much more gentle.

"Take care, boys. You both remind me so much of my grandsons!" She exclaimed shaking her head as if she was reminiscing.

They both waved and left. Dean already had the Impala pulled up to the front and he grinned to himself as Sam got in by himself.

Sam was not doing so hot, though. He had been able to hide the pain very well now, but deep down he was in agony. They drived in silence, the only sound was the radio.

They pulled up to the motel after about 20 minutes of driving and were eager to crash for the night. Dean and Sam got ready for bed and hopped in to their own designated spots. Sam was so glad to be back at the motel, but as he laid his body against the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, all he felt was pain. Each throbbing muscle in his legs and back were practically on fire. He cringed and waiting until Dean was asleep to cry. He didn't want him to hear that.

He eventually drifted off to a restless sleep, thankful that his body could get at least a little shuteye.

Neither one of them noticed the shooter outside their bedroom window.

**Oooh! Cliffy! Make sure you review and I'll get another chapter up today!**


	7. Fear

Rain, Rain

A/N: As I promised, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!

I

Sam awoke in the middle of the night to a faint scratching sound at the window. He was a very light sleeper, especially now with the constant pain he had. He rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, peering over to the window.

His heart stopped, his breath caught in his throat. It was like watching a horror movie, going home, and having the movie play out before you.

He was the victim.

He stumbled out of bed in a frenzy, knocking over everything in his sight and cursing under his breath from the pain. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor in a heap, tugging frantically on the comforters over Dean.

"D-Dean!" He cried out, his heart pounding.

He rolled over, noted how panicked his little brother was and sat up.

"What is it?" If he was tired before, the traces of it quickly vanished. He was alert.

"The...the g-guy." He was stuttering, stammering. He pointed to the window and Dean saw what Sam saw. The shooter.

"Shit." Dean mumbled. He raced over to the end table, pulled out the gun he had since his dad taught him how to shoot. Sam clambered onto Dean's bed, scooted up into the corner, back to the wall. He wanted to be as far away from the shooter as possible.

Dean shot once at the window, the glass shattering. The shooter was too quick and he was gone in an instant. He waited. Surely, he would make his way into the motel somehow.

Sam was whimpering in the corner. Dean couldn't even imagine what he was feeling right now. Demon or not, this guy had damaged Sam both physically and mentally. Dean sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms around him.

"He's gonna c-come back D-Dean." He trembled violently and buried his head into Dean's chest, clutching onto him for dear life. Dean rocked him and pressed him close to his body, trying to calm him down.

"Ssshh. He's not going anywhere near you, Sammy. I promise." Dean was afraid. Not of the shooter, but he feared for Sam's condition. There was way too much stress on him right now. But, there was no way he would be able to calm him unless this guy was dead.

Dean pulled away from Sam and pulled the gun out again.

"Dean, please don't leave!" He cried out.

"Don't, Sammy. Let me do what I have to." Dean bit down on his lip and focused his eyes on the front window in the living room. He was there, waiting, working cautiously at the locks on the window. He noticed Dean and sprinted.

Dean looked out the window cautiously, gun in his hand in case the guy made an appearance. The guy was good, Dean thought. The locks on the windows had been reset. He could just open the window and...shit.

Dean bolted back into the bedroom. It was as he thought it would be. The shooter, snarl across his thin lips, was standing in front of Sam, who was cowering away. The man had no gun this time. It was just him. Dean realized frantically that he had no bullets left. He darted towards the end table to get some, but the man stuck his palm out to him and Dean flew across the room, an invisible force somersaulting him backwards.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, hoping that Dean was alright. He was up in an instant. He glanced over at Sam and eyed him up. Sam knew what he had to do. He reached down on the floor, under the matress. They always kept rock salt in a small pouch underneath it. He pulled it out.

"What do you want with my brother?" Dean forced out, trying to stall him.

"I think you know." The man had a deep, husky voice, dry and overused.

"No, actually, I have no idea what you mean." Dean needed the time. He watched Sam sprinkle the salt around his bed as Dean inquired further.

"Your brother is special. We need him."

"Who's we?" Sam was done with the rock salt. He crept over to the other side of the room and grabbed the container of holy water in the end table. The shooter heard him.

He whipped around in an abnormal fashion, eyes darting towards him. He flung his hand up, sending Sam across the room. Immediately, Sam took to protecting the bottle of holy water. He needed it. He took the fall and groaned in agony as his body was overcome by a spasm. His muscles locked up on him.

The man inched closer to Sam and knelt down. Sam tossed the holy water across the room, hoping Dean would catch it.

He did.

_Thank God._ Sam muttered under his breath. Dean opened it and splashed it over the man. His whole body flashed on and off, like a holographic image.

"Bastard." Dean called out to him.

The guy turned to face Sam, ignoring Dean's comment. "We will get you, Sam. We always find a way, and we are always successful." He paused. "Always."

He withered away to nothing, but his presence still lingered. Sam shuddered.

II

"Hey. Are you okay?" Dean asked his brother. He pulled him up and Sam winced as the pain laced through his back and legs.

"Yeah." He nodded. All of this crap had made him realize very quickly how tired he was. "Are you okay?"

Dean smiled, touched that Sam was concerned with the demon flinging him across the room. "I'm good, man."

Sam winced, the pain in his back making his legs give out beneath him. He fell to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Sammy?" Dean knelt down next to him and put a hand over his forehead. "You're not burning up." He noted. He wasn't sick, there was no infection.

"I-It...h-hurts, Dean." His voice sounded weak and fragile, like a small child.

Dean flinched. Shit. He should have known. It was his job to protect his brother and he didn't notice how much pain he was in. He should have caught on to the fact that Sam was not fully healed. He was not ready to be home. He subconsciously remembered Alyssa giving him her cell number. He thought about calling her.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad, Sammy?" He was frustrated, but felt so guilty. He should have known, he should have known.

"I didn't w-want you...to..w-worry about me." He laid his head back against the ground as a spasm of pain overtook him. He shook violently and Dean steadied him by the shoulders. Sam's back arched and he cried out involuntarily at the pain. His muscles froze beneath his skin. He breathed in the smell of Dean hovering above him as he waited for it to pass.

"You okay?" Dean asked once Sam had laid back down. He released his arms but scooped him up in his arms and laid him gently on the bed. He ran to the kitchen and got the muscle relaxer and pain meds.

"Here." He said, handing him the medicine and a glass of water. "Take this, it'll help." He was so worried about his brother right now. He figured he'd let the medicines work their way into his body and if he was still in pain, he'd definitely call Alyssa. He didn't want to see his brother like this.

III

"WIll you stay with me?" Sam asked. Dean had tucked him into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and brushing back the hair on his forehead.

"Of course, Sammy." He cooed. Sam closed his eyes slowly as Dean sat next to him, running his fingers through his hair like he used to when they were kids. It calmed Sam quickly and he found himself dozing off to a well-deserved sleep.

Dean headed back to his bed after telling the motel guy that he'd pay for the damages to the windows. The guy wanted them to leave the motel by morning, but he told him of Sam's condition so they gave him until tomorrow.

He called Alyssa.

"Alyssa, it's Dean. There's a problem."

"What?" She asked. She was in doctor mode.

"Uh. We kinda have to leave the area, so Sam won't be around for physical therapy." It was true. They wouldn't come back here until Sam was fully healed and a hunt came up.

"Uh..." Alyssa was at a loss for words. "Let me come with you, then. I'll be able to check up on Sam."

"No! No, no no. It's too dangerous. There's stuff going on that I can't explain to you, you're gonna have to trust me."

She paused for a minute, 'mother hen' mode quickly following behind 'doctor mode'. "Stay at my place. I've got an extra room."

Dean pondered this for a moment. They'd be safer there than here. He knew the demons that were with the shooter would probably find their location, but they desperately needed somewhere to stay. Desperately being an understatement.

"Okay." Dean complied.

"Should I set up for tonight?" She asked, eager.

"No, no. We'll be there in the morning, Sam's asleep." He noted, glancing over at his brother to make sure it was still that way.

"Okay." She said. She gave Dean the directions to her apartment and told him she'd see him in the morning.

"Hey Alyssa?" Dean said before hanging up.

"Yeah?" She sounded alert now.

"Thank you."

"Sure, Dean."

Dean grinned. She sounded hot on the phone, too...


	8. Safe

Rain, Rain

A/N: I'm almost at 100 reviews! This has been my most successful fanfic! Thank you guys SO much. It means alot. I look forward to the reviews that go into detail about what you like/don't like. It makes me smile!

I

"Thank you again." Dean said to Alyssa, trying to sound as sincere as possible without looking down her shirt. Sam smirked and rolled his eyes. It was so unbelievably typical for Dean to act this way. Unlike his older brother, Sam was actually grateful that Alyssa was letting them stay in her home. It was really nice and they haven't run into people as kind as her in a long, long time.

"It's really no problem." She smiled warmly at Dean and turned to Sam. "I want to check you out, Sam. I need to know how you're healing." She brushed the hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears. Sam winced.

He had been feeling emotionally and physically drained since yesterday. Having the shooter so close to them was horrid. He could still feel his gaze on him at the window, could still feel the bullet tearing through his flesh like a knife slicing through a piece of bread. It made him shudder to think of how close the demon was to hurting _Dean_. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if...

"Sam?" Alyssa asked again, taking in his tired appearance. He moved slowly, his limbs like weights, limp at his sides and barely able to hang on his body without pulling him down. He shook his head, shaking off the pain that started to form in his legs.

"Uh. Right. Okay." He went into the bathroom to change into some sweats with much difficulty. He bended and twisted and by the time he had gotten the sweat pants on, he was panting and a layer of cold sweat formed at his hairline. Man. He splashed some water on his face and left the bathroom to find Alyssa, waiting for him.

He stood there and waited for her instructions. He wasn't exactly sure how they were going to be able to do this with no equipment and nothing set up that was usually available at the hospital.

"Take off your shirt." She demanded. Sam did so, Alyssa helping him out of it because the bending part was quite difficult, and his energy had been used up in the first place by puting his sweats on.

He eventually got out of his shirt and Alyssa placed her fingers on the base of his spine.

"Bend over as far as you can." She said, her tone even and calm. He did so, barely bending at all. Alyssa slid her fingers up the column of his spine, as if it were a scoliosis check. It felt kind of uncomfortable at first, but he relaxed into her touch and found it to be quite soothing.

"Hm." Dean stepped in on the conversation.

"Hm? What does 'hm' mean?" He got defensive suddenly, hoping that it wasn't a bad 'hm'.

"Nothing. Just...shouldn't be so sore." She noted, rubbing her fingers over his lower back.

"You can stand, Sam." She said to him, and lifted him by his chest. He was waiting for that moment to come, when he could finally stand again. The pressure was horrible and it shot down to his legs. He lifted them one at a time to see if the circulation of his blood would help. Nope. More throbbing.

She let Sam plop himself down on the edge of the bed and pulled Dean out into the living room.

"What's going on?" She asked. She shed her exterior as a doctor and showed her human side. She was concerned.

"Nothing, Alyssa." Dean shook his head. He was grateful that she was willing to help, but he couldn't endanger her. It was bad enough that they were here, and having her in on their little secret would only make matters worse.

"Dean. I can help you if I know what I'm dealing with." She folded her arms over her chest and sighed.

Dean sighed back and ran a hand through his hair. "Alyssa. You just wouldn't understand. I just need you to trust me on this."

She stared at him for a moment, wondering what was going on inside that head of his, and gave up. Maybe it was better that she didn't know.

"Fine." She unfolded her arms and dropped them down to her sides. She walked into the bathroom and got a heating pad out.

"Hey Sam?" She called into the bedroom. He just groaned. He was so exhausted from all of this. She came to his side and knelt down in front of him.

Dean followed and whispered to Alyssa, "Yeah, he's always preferred heat to ice." He said it casually and Alyssa was surprised to see that someone with such a tough exterior could be so doting to someone like Sam. She was warmed by their connection.

Sam held his head in his hands, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up at Alyssa and sighed lightly.

"Yeah?"

"I have a heating pad for you." She smiled gently at him. He chuckled.

"Come on Sammy, don't give her a hard time. Roll over." Dean helped Sam lay on his stomach and kept the covers off while he found a comfortable position. He rested his head against the pillows and was grateful for the comfort he found.

Alyssa placed the now plugged-in heating pad under his shirt on his lower back. Sam moaned delightfully, letting the heat work its way through his sore muscles. It warmed the muscles in his lower back and relieved the tension that had been building up since the shooting. Not only did it help his back, but his legs started to feel better too. His thighs and calves started to rid the pain and for once he was actually...comfortable.

"Sammy's really a girl." Dean noted to Alyssa, glad that he was finally able to be rid of the pain. "He likes that therapeutic, spa stuff."

Alyssa grinned. "Yeah. Seems to be helping. Should have thought of this earlier."

It was a subtle remark, but it hit Dean like a ton of bricks. He should have thought of it sooner. He should have known how to help Sam. The grin fell from his face and he turned away from Alyssa.

"Yeah...you're right."

II

"It's not your fault, Dean." She said, sipping her cup of coffee across from Dean. They were sitting at Alyssa's kitchen table, and in silence up until Alyssa broke it.

Dean was only slightly taken aback by the comment. He remained silent. He didn't know what to say.

"It could have happened to anyone." She was trying to be reasonable. She knew Dean felt guilty. But, he didn't have to.

"Yeah. But it happened to _Sammy_." Dean shook his head. None of this should have happened. None of it. If he could have just stopped worrying about his pride for once, he could have saved his brother from the pain he was in now. It was unbearable at times.

"We're probably going to head out tomorrow. We've got places to go." Dean said absent mindedly, not really giving two shits anymore.

Alyssa put her hand over Dean's, it was warm to the touch and...calm.

"Stay. I know that you don't have to leave right away. So just..stay as long as you need to." She was starting to become more of a mother figure than the hot doc, and Dean found it more..soothing, calming. Ah, who was he kidding.

"Thank you." He said graciously. He really meant it, too. He was glad that they were here with Alyssa than out in some other weird place getting chased by the shooter's demon gang.

Oh, wait.

He forgot about that. Maybe they had better leave after all...


	9. Discovery

Rain, Rain

A/N: Sorry, it took so long to update. It's hard to keep going when I don't know what the readers want. To be honest, I was just winging it with this. Please let me know what you would like to see, it helps! And now...I added lots of brotherly love in this chapter to take a break from Alyssa. She's not a Mary Sue, btw. Just someone to guide them a little. No Dean!Alyssa fic, either.

I

It started off as a restless sleep. Dean knew that Sam had a headache, but he had assumed that it would go away with all the pain meds he was taking as it is. Much to Sam's dismay, it did not. He had been trying his best to sleep, but it would not come, and the headache soon turned to a nagging at the base of his skull.

Dean came into the bedroom and it was like a bomb went off in his super sensitive ears. He knew he was going to have a vision, whether he liked it or not. He was overcome with a dizzying wave of nausea and he had to run to the bathroom, with difficulty, to make it there in time. Dean stared at him, bewildered, not quite sure what to do next. He heard vomiting and knew Sam was sick from the headache. He gave Sam some time, hoping it would pass on its own. He emerged shortly thereafter and looked like the living dead.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his face pale from exhaustion. He did not notice that Dean was awake and alert, eyeing him up suspiciously. Sam did not want to worry his brother, so he tried to make it seem like everything was alright. He knew with a start that the vision would come at any given second.

"You okay?" Dean asked. Alyssa was sleeping in the other bedroom and he didn't want to disturb her unless he needed to. Sam pressed a curled fist to his temple and at that instant, Dean knew Sam was going to have a vision.

"I..I-I'm...aauuughh!" Sam's back arched and his knees buckled under his weight, sending him to the floor in a heap. He instantly felt the repercussions from the fall and his whole body was overcome by an extraordinary pain. He cringed and panted, trying to catch the oxygen that was not there.

_"Dean could have stopped it. But he was too late. He's always going to be too late, Sam." _

"Sammy." Sam's eyes fluttered open and he was on the bed in an instant, curled up into Dean's arms. He still couldn't catch his breath and Dean started to panic. It had never been like this before. But, he couldn't show that panic to his brother. He had to be strong for him.

_"He could have prevented all of this."_

"Shut up!" Sam screamed, writhing beneath Dean's fingertips. He sucked in a breath, trying to fill his lungs with much-needed oxygen, but it wouldn't take, and he found himself overcome with fear. He couldn't breathe.

_"You know damn well Dean doesn't care about you. Why do you think he just left you on the highway?"_

"Damnit, Sammy!" Dean rolled Sam to his side, patting his cheek so he didn't give up on him.

"Breathe through it, Sammy." He rubbed his fingers over Sam's spine, massaging the tensed muscles to try to soothe him. He only forced himself closer to Dean's body, trembling.

_"Us demons don't take too well to having one of our kind die, Sammy boy."_

"Come on...you can do this...breathe, damnit."

Dean was really freaking out by now. He was at a loss. Sam had been still for 11 seconds too long. Dean was ready to call for Alyssa right when Sam shot up and took an enormous gulp of air, his chest heaving, flailing frantically.

_"You're next."_

"Thank God." Dean muttered, pulling Sam close to him. He was eager to share his body warmth with his little brother, he felt the chill on his cool skin, the goosebumps rising from the sudden physical contact.

Sam was in an obvious state of shock. His eyes were wide with terror and he let Dean hold him, tense in his brother's arms. The realization that Sam could breathe now didn't process right away and he was still struggling for air as Dean held him.

"Hey, you're okay, Sammy...breathe." Dean held onto the back of his hair and stroked the back of his neck, other arm wrapped around his waist.

The tears came then. It only made Dean's heart break even more. It was like when a small child is dunked in the pool and they come up feeling like they still can't breathe, so they cry, which really only makes it worse. Dean was trying his best to help his brother through this. He couldn't imagine why his vision was that rough.

"You okay?" Dean asked, loosening his grip slightly. Sam nodded into his chest and wiped his eyes.

"What did you see?"

Sam's jaw trembled, his whole body trembled, and he needed to wait a few more moments in Dean's arms before he could answer. When he spoke, he still didn't leave his haven.

"The d-demons. T-the shooter's...gang." Sam just couldn't tell Dean what else they had said. He would never believe those words anyway. After all, he was in his brother's arms right now, not someone else's.

"And..." Dean pressed, feeling his brother tense beneath him.

"Uh..." Sam shook his head, looking for the right word formation as to not worry Dean. "They're...looking...for...me?" He spat out hesitantly, only pulling away from Dean's clutches to peer up at his face.

His jaw tensed with worry and his eyes seemed almost distant. He looked down at his brother and resumed his big brother role.

"Nothing is going to happen, okay?" Dean said forcefully, running a hand through his brother's hair and pulling his body away from his own.

Sam nodded, reassured, because Dean knew what was best, and Dean always took care of him. "Okay."

II

Dean decided that it was time to go. With Sam's visions starting to make an appearance, and the demon gang on the loose, their only option was to leave, because neither one of them wanted to endanger Alyssa-especially not after all she did for the boys. It was about three in the morning and all of their belongings were packed and ready to go.

"You ready?" Dean whispered into the night. Sam's long legs were dangling off the bed and his arm was draped over his eyes, face contorted with discomfort.

"Yeah." His voice sounded rough and weak, and he groaned as Dean helped him out of bed. A jarring pain shot through his legs as he tried to stand on his noodles for legs, and he would have been on the floor again if it wasn't for Dean's ready arms.

"Take it easy, I've gotcha." Dean was pained to see his brother like this. He was finally getting better from the gunshot, and now he had the vision ordeal to overcome as another obstacle. It was never ending. Sam was wobbly on his legs and slowly and unsteadily he moved with Dean out of the apartment, watching Dean slip a letter on the kitchen table. It was odd to see Dean do this, because he was more of a 'never look back' kind of guy. He never cared about anyone else but Sam and Dad, so he just never stayed.

Dean opened the door very carefully, taking one last glance into Alyssa's bedroom where she was sleeping peacefully. Sam whimpered and moved a hand to his hip, snapping Dean back into reality.

"Legs hurt?" He whispered once they were outside. It was a daily thing for Sam to be in pain, but Dean just never got used to that kind of thing. Sam merely nodded, rubbing his hand over his hip in circles, trying to get the feeling back and ease the pain. He was looking forward to sitting down, but not if it meant being cramped in the Impala. It was definitely not one of his favorite positions to be in these days.

Dean gently maneuvered him into the passenger seat and got in, started the car, and headed towards their newest destination. He honestly wasn't even sure where they would go, but he simply could not endanger Alyssa. She had helped them enough and he didn't want that assistance to end up with her getting killed. Maybe they'd go to New Jersey and visit the shore. Sam always liked the beachy girly stuff. Scantily clad and dancing around with jellyfish. Hah. He chuckled to himself as Sam eased himself into a deep sleep, head pressed up against the cool window.

He turned back to the house, saying the goodbyes in his head. Maybe he'd come visit Alyssa once this was over.

III

_Alyssa,_

_Thank you for everything that you have done for Sam and I. We both really appreciate it. I also want to thank you for making it easy to confide in you. You didn't press the subject of what was going on, which helped more than you think. I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, but something came up, and I felt that I had to let you know and not just...well, get up and leave. _

_We'll be back to visit you soon. (And you won't be able to tell which one of us was injured.)_

_Take care,_

_Dean_

_TBC..._

**PLEASE R&R ON MY ONESHOT! -THE END OF THE TUNNEL- **


	10. Comfort

Rain, Rain

A/N: This story is not over, guys. Sorry if the ending led you astray. This chapter is dedicated to Enkidu07. Hope this is what you wanted to see!

I

"SHIT!" Dean pounded his fist against the steering wheel for the upteenth time, regretting it instantly as he rubbed the side of his hand.

"Dean..." Sam sighed wearily. Dean had had been banging on the steering wheel for the past 10 minutes. They had been driving for about 2 hours with no gas station in sight. The poor, beloved Impala had run out of gas and Dean was beyond pissed.

"There is no way in hell that I am having my baby towed." Dean crossed his arms, defeated. "No way." He mumbled, fuming. He thought about calling Bobby, and he didn't want to bother him, but he'd be able to get them out of this mess, and he was only a day's worth of driving away from them. Besides, neither one of them wanted to get picked up as hitchhikers. They didn't have the best luck with that kind of thing.

Dean pried his thoughts from his dilemma for a moment and peered over at his brother. He looked extremely uncomfortable in the car, with his legs pulled up to his chest, his back arched forward, and his head resting against the cool window of the car.

"So what are we gonna..." Sam turned to face Dean and noticed his staring. "What?"

Dean shook his head and did his little eyebrow trick. "Nothing." He pulled his eyes away from his brother. "And I don't know, Sammy."

Sam seemed to mull this thought over in his mind and came to the conclusion that he did not want to be cramped up in the car for the next 8 hours. Anyway, the chill from the deep morning air was starting to make its way to the inside of the Impala. There was no way he was going to be even remotely comfortable while waiting for Bobby.

Dean opened the car door and got out. Sam heard him rummaging through the trunk. He knew there were all sorts of weapons in there, obviously, but was slightly shocked when Dean returned with an armful of blankets and a pillow.

"I didn't know we had that kind of stuff in the trunk." Sam noted. He knew of the first aid kit, cheap cell phone always fully charged, batteries, flares, etc. but not of the equipment for a camping trip.

"Gotta be prepared for anything, Sammy." Dean said casually, tossing a blanket to Sam. He nodded as he felt the slight shiver in his limbs and he winced as he jolted to catch the blanket, pain skyrocketing through his lower back. Black dots swarmed his vision and he held a hand to his temple to stop the dizziness. Dean clenched his hands on the top of the car and peered in, taking in Sam's obvious unease.

"Hey." He called out for Sam to hear. Sam pushed his hand away from his head and shook the fatigue off, as Dean continued, gently. "You okay?"

Sam bit down on his teeth, gritted them together to fight back the frustration he was having over the amount of pain someone could be in by doing simple tasks.

"Fine."

Dean stared at him for a moment longer and hopped back in the car with his own blanket, wrapping it around himself against the cool morning air. Dean pulled out his cell phone, called Bobby and hung up with an edge to his voice as he spoke.

"He's not going to be here for another 6 hours." He sounded bitter. Sam was only somewhat relieved. He had expected Bobby to come in 8 or 9 hours, but apparently he was a little closer to them than he thought. Despite this, he was still going to be cramped up in the Impala with a pissy Dean.

Dean let out a weary sigh, and Sam shivered.

"Dude. I think it's warmer _outside_." Dean said, rubbing his hands together briskly.

Sam nodded in agreement. Dean took that as his cue to hop out of the car and help Sam out on his side.

"Dean, can't we just walk? See if there's some place we can hide out in for the night?" Sam sounded desperate to lay somewhere, the exhaustion taking its toll both physically and mentally. Dean pondered this. His thoughts first went to Sam, whom he didn't want walking for God knows how long. And then, the Impala. He really didn't want to leave it here. He glanced over to Sam, then back to his beloved car. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

He let out a strangled sigh of defeat.

"Are you sure you'll be able to keep up with me, crip?" Dean smirked, only joking with Sam since he'd have to leave the car behind. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed, getting out of the car and following closely behind his fairly moody brother.

II

Sam was pretty far behind. Again. It was the millionth time that Dean had to stop to wait up for his little brother. They had been walking for about an hour. The Impala was out of their range of vision, and they were nearing a sign for a town that was about 3 more miles away. Sam looked in an awful amount of pain. He walked with his back hunched, his arms folded across his chest to keep the blanket around him, and the pain in his legs made him walk with a limp. His face was paled from the coldness of the air, and the pain that was literally numbing him so much that it hurt.

Dean folded his arms patiently and waited until Sam caught up with him. "Do you want to sit and rest for a little while?" He asked cautiously. Lately, Sam had been on edge about feeling dependent. He didn't want to feel like he needed to rest all the time, or sleep when he took his meds, or take meds in the first place. He didn't want his injury to _define_ him. And Dean only understood that to an extent.

"Nah, I'm good." He said exasperatedly. His lids fluttered tiredly.

Dean only partially shrugged it off, keeping his eyes on his brother's form as they walked slowly towards the town. Dean hadn't given up on Sam's hope for total recovery, but it always seemed like Sam was pushing himself too much. And with no more hospital care, there was only so much Dean could do to help him through it.

They entered the town. It was honestly, pretty damn small. It was like this whole stretch of highway, and right when you turn and see that sign, it's a whole other world. The little houses were lined up along the streets, there was one supermarket, a doctor's office, and a bank. It was like a little western town without the western. Dean didn't want to intrude on anybody's home, so they opted for a small shed on the farther side of town. Which, obviously wasn't very far to begin with.

Dean pressed his shoulder against the shed, half expecting to find someone or something in it, but it was completely vacant and empty of any life. It was starting to become lighter outside, and Dean expected it was somewhere around 6 or 7 in the morning.

It was much warmer in here than it was outside, and Dean quickly realized that it was insulated. Someone must own the shed, or else...why bother? Dean threw down a blanket on the floor, with the two pillows at the top, and waited expectantly.

"Are you gonna lie down?" Dean spat out. Sam honestly wanted to jump right on that blanket mountain and sleep for 3 days, but he couldn't physically move anymore. He was too exhausted, his muscles were shrieking profanities at him, and he was so cold.

"I..." Sam didn't want to blurt it out. He was trying to avoid sounding weak at all cost. But, his tired body won him over. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Dean said casually, trying to press the subject without overwhelming his little brother. After a few moments of silence, Dean had to continue on. "Sam?"

"I can't move, okay!" Sam shouted it out, sighing as though he were disgusted with himself, teeth grinding against each other.

Dean stared at him for a moment, pity washing over him. It was heartwrenching to see his brother afraid to ask for help, to need to feel some sense of independence. He reminded him of himself in that moment. Too proud to ask for help, too strong to be needy.

"All you had to do was ask, Sammy."

His voice broke somewhat. "I'm not weak, Dean."

Dean shook his head, as if that wasn't what he was trying to say. "No, Sammy, you're not. But everyone needs some help once in a while."

Sam's eyes fell to the floor. He didn't want to admit his weakness. He didn't want to seem like the 'crip' Dean had joked about him being. He wanted to be strong, and independent. Because, when the demon gang that did this to Sam finally found them, he wanted to be able to fight them off himself.

"Let me help you." Dean said as he worked his way to Sam's side. He gripped his elbow and left his other hand on his back as he slowly lowered his younger brother to the ground. It was exhausting for Sam, and he was out of breath by the time he made it to the blanket. He didn't want to lay down because he couldn't do that either. It hurt too damn much.

The physical exertion that had come with walking well over 5 miles was really starting to take its toll. He had just started to really recover and now...Well, it was his own fault. He _wanted_ to walk because he wanted to show Dean how strong he could be. He just didn't know it would hurt this bad. He whimpered and Dean's eyes shot immediately to his brother.

"What is it?" Dean's eyes were like a hawk, following Sam's motions with intensity.Sam shifted a little and shot a hand to his back. His legs were feeling better now that he was sitting down, but the lower part of his back where it branched out to his hips had been nagging him ever since the accident.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing." But Dean didn't, and wouldn't buy it. It was never nothing with Sam. He knew it was something this time, too, because the pain caught his brother off guard, and it was obviously a bitch to deal with.

"Is it your back?" Dean inquired, trying to sound as calm as possible. He didn't want Sam to think he was having an obvious problem with comfort right now. Sam's expression remained blank, but Dean knew. He always knew.

So, he sat down behind his brother and scooted up close to him.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Sam sounded achy and tired, but he didn't want Dean to get all touchy-feely if he didn't want to.

"Shut up, Sammy. You're in pain, and I'm in the giving kind of mood." Dean rested his hands on Sam's shoulders. He tried to cry out in protest, but Dean's hands moving in swift motions actually felt really relaxing.

Dean moved his hands down to Sam's middle and lower back, noting with a grimace that there was weeks of tension built up in his muscles. They felt like rocks beneath his fingers, and he worked over them for a while, rubbing his fingers into his back in small circles, easing away the tension.

He continued rubbing his palms up and down the canvas of his little brother's back, picking up on little scars from previous hunts, and the most recent one from the shooting. He rubbed his fingers over the raised, pinkish white trail and then focused on the muscle around it, positive that the muscles in that area were more sore than the others.

Sam's breathing started to even out, and Dean felt him shiver and sigh, a chill running down his spine.

"You're such a girl, Sammy." Dean grinned. He pulled away because he knew how sleepy Sam was, but he was satisfied that he had helped his brother get rid of some of the pains in his back. He helped Sam lay back against his pillows and made sure the blanket was wrapped around him securely, keeping him warm for the remainder of their wait for Bobby. Dean snuggled up against his own pillows, and did not protest when his little brother curled up close to his chest, resting his head near his arm. Sam's breath against his elbow was comforting. It only reminded him that he was alive. The shooting scared Dean more than Sam could ever imagine.

Sam sighed lightly and yawned. "Thank you, Dean."

And Dean knew Sam was grateful, even if he called him a girl for being so. He drifted off to sleep with a good feeling in his heart, uplifted by weeks of sadness and stress.

_TBC..._


	11. Shock

Rain, Rain

A/N: Thanks for the reviews-they keep me going! Sorry for taking so long, but please keep up with the reviews. I'll post another chapter tomorrow! Thanks again!

I

"Hey. Rise and shine, princess." Dean shook Sam gently, and smiled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Bobby here?" Sam asked, yawning and running a hand through his messy hair.

"Yup." Dean confirmed. Bobby walked through the doorway and grinned at Sam.

"Nice seein ya again, boys." He still wore that lopsided grin, baseball cap over his shaggy tangle of hair. He looked aged though, and Sam thought they all did, as if the aspect of hunting was starting to overwhelm them.

Dean offered Sam a hand and eased him up to his feet. They both stood there and stared at Bobby. It was just kind of awkward.

"Well." Bobby started, rubbing a hand over his beard. "I fixed the Impala."

Dean cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "You did?"

"Yup. Filled her up, she's good to go." He smiled proudly at Dean, who was pumped.

"Great. Thanks, Bobby."

They stood there for a few moments longer. Sam silently mulled over the whole awkward thought. He was sure it was because of him. I mean, what exactly do you say to someone who was shot, temporarily paralyzed, and being chased by a demon gang? Not that Bobby knew about the demon part anyway. He just thought the guy was human. Sam's eyes fell to the ground. Unfortunately, he wasn't just human.

Dean cocked his head towards the door and Bobby followed him outside. He nodded towards Sam, who just stayed in the shed awkwardly and waited. He already knew what Dean was up to.

"Demon gang." Dean said in a flat, stale tone. Bobby bit down on his bottom lip and slitted his eyes.

"How do you know?"

"The guy who, uh..." Dean's eyes swayed from Bobby's and he paused hesitantly. "Shot Sam. He's not just a guy. He's a demon. Said something about a clan. We can't take the chance of them coming after Sam. Not right now."

Bobby rubbed his hand over his beard again and scratched at it thoughtfully. "Well, why don't you guys just lay low?"

"Can't." Dean's gaze returned, his jaw tense and set in determination. "It's too dangerous."

"It's better than going out there and getting yourself killed, Dean."

Dean shook his head fiercely, and his nostrils flared in anger. "No, Bobby. If we wait for them to come to us, then they could do just that. They'll come and we're not going to be prepared. Our guards aren't going to be up 24/7. I can't risk them going after us and having them..." He paused. A look of exasperation washed over his now pale features. "Hurt Sam again."

Bobby stared at Dean a moment longer and finally gave in. He supposed his reasoning was in the right place, he had good intentions. "Alright."

Dean nodded and shoved his hands into his pocket, swaying and stepping down on his right foot. "Okay. Well, we should get started."

II

Bobby had stayed with Sam until Dean pulled up to the front of the shed in his Impala. Sam hopped in on the passenger side and thanked Bobby for his company as he jumped into his truck and started the engine. Bobby was going to tailgate. Sam silently laughed at the thought of Dean following Bobby. It never worked out that way. Dean always had to lead.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked thoughtfully, his arms folded over his chest. Dean paused before starting the engine.

"Uh. Going to find that demon gang." Dean said it casually, rubbing a hand over his shaved face.

Sam wasn't too surprised, but he still couldn't contain the shock that was still there.

"Dean! You can't be serious!" Sam was slightly appalled. He didn't want them to go after the gang. What if there were too many of them? What if it was simply too dangerous? What if it was some cataclysmic gang of super-human freaks?

"Sammy, listen. We're going to kill these sons of bitches whether you like it or not." Dean turned on the car and raised the volume, singing to an AC/DC song as Sam huffed and clenched his jaw.

"Dean, I really don't-"

"Shut up, Sammy. Don't interrupt." Dean raised the volume over Sam's protests and sang louder, a chorus of "Back in Black" pulsating throughout the Impala.

Sam folded his arms and sat back. He had listened to Dean's shrieking too many times to complain anymore. He shut his voice out and fell into a deep sleep, feeling bad for any resident in this creepy town that had to deal with them.

Dean peered over at Sam and eyed his sleeping form, deciding to call it quits for his singing. He was trembling slightly, tossing a little in his seat as if he were uncomfortable.

_A young girl was walking into her kitchen, blonde hair falling gently over his shoulders in a cascade. She took casual steps, as if there wasn't a care in the world. Then a man appeared. He was thin and gaunt, pale skin and casual clothes. But, the eyes. They were black. He snarled._

"_Where is Sam Winchester?" He growled, deep and throaty._

"_What are you doing in my house!?" She sounded so scared, fragile, and broken. _

"_Where is Sam Winchester?" He repeated it, louder this time, and with a wave of his hand the young girl was pinned up against the wall, struggling and flailing for air. _

_She merely shook her head, confused over why this strange person was in her house. She didn't know a Sam Winchester._

_He waved his hand again and there was silence. No more gasps, no more choking, sputtering. Just blood, everywhere. It was all over the floor, the kitchen walls, and the cake. A birthday cake. She had a child._

"_Mommy?" _

Sam jolted up in the seat very quickly, hand over his chest in an attempt to get the air back into his lungs. Dean was still driving but his gaze snapped to his brother.

"What the hell was that?" He spat out, eyes darting from the road to Sam.

Sam shook his head and rubbed his fingers gingerly over his temple.

"Vision."

Dean kept driving, speeding up now. "What'd you see?"

"A girl. Young. Demon killed her. I don't know where they're at, Dean." He paused and rubbed at his head again. "She had a kid." The guilt. There always came guilt with watching someone die and not being able to stop it. Only now it was overwhelming him. He had killed a young mother because she didn't know Sam.

"Well, think, Sam. Where were they?" He sounded desperate. And Sam didn't blame him. If they were going to kill these demons, they had to get on it fast. And the vision was their only lead right now.

"Uh.." Sam racked his brain for anything, anything at all, that would help them. He remembered the house, small and cozy. The outside, the trees crowded around the building, shading it from the sun. And then..he realized it. The place had seemed so familiar. They were just there. The owner of that shed.

"Oh my God..." Sam choked on his words.

"What is it, damnit!?" Dean had pulled the car over by now, and was getting impatient. Bobby waited in the truck behind them, anticipating a phone call from Dean with an update.

"The shed. The town. We were just there, Dean. Jesus." Sam shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh.

Dean's eyes were wild with fury and excitement and rage all at the same time. He called Bobby to let them know of the plans. The demons weren't going to be far behind.

"Let's get this show on the road."

_TBC..._

**The showdown is coming next chapter. Review and I'll post it tomorrow, asap!**


	12. Strength

Rain, Rain

A/N: Sorry for getting this chapter up so late. I thought I'd have it up sooner. But, the writing got the best of me and I went a tad overboard. Hope you enjoy it all the same, and that it was worth the wait. Thanks for all the reviews!

I

The breeze rippled past Sam's shoulders, lifting the material off of his neck. He stood taller than most days, but still hunched slightly from the toll the injury had taken on his once top-notch body. The sun was just beginning to set, and he let the scenery overtake him. Dean had the Impala stopped and he was digging in the trunk for weapons. Sam didn't want to fight just yet, he really just wanted everything to come rushing at him. The moon, the dark, the stars, the wind, the peaceful silence. It didn't seem like a night for fighting.

Dean sauntered over and shouldered his rifle, tossing Sam his. They were full of rock salt, and it was standard routine. Sam stop the sigh that escaped his lips.

"What?" Dean's voice made him realize that the sigh shouldn't have come out. Knowing Dean, he would take it as Sam being an ungrateful brat for the work he was putting into saving his ass. But, it wasn't that. He just didn't want to endanger his brother. This was _his_ fight. And he didn't want his brother getting killed in the process.

"Nothing. You ready?" Sam turned and scratched out the part about waiting for Dean's response. Dean mumbled something about a 'pansy' and shut the trunk, pocketing the Colt. Bobby was waiting for them up at the intersection that took you into the town. Sam noticed the name of it for the first time. Carlisle. Sam was pretty sure that was the name, despite the faded paint and scratched out letters.

"Sam!" Dean shouted into the silence, interrupting Sam's thoughts. Sam's head snapped to his brother and he stared at him with weary eyes. "Coming?" Oh, right...

Sam stumbled behind Dean and Bobby once they reached him, and started rambling on about their hunting tactics. This topic no longer interested Sam, and he once again found himself deep in thought.

He dug his feet into the dirt road and took in bits and pieces of Dean and Bobby's conversation. He made out the words _Sam_, _demon gang_, _vision_, _this fucking town_, _swear to God_, _hurt him_, _beat the living shit out of them_. And this was all old news to Sam, so he didn't feel the need to listen in anymore.

The shed was very close to them now, only a few hundred yards away. Sam scuttled behind them but kept his eyes open and his ears ready for any hint as to where the demons were. Dean and Bobby were still yapping away, so neither of them noticed the pair of heads near the shed. Sam stopped in his tracks and cocked his rifle, aiming at them.

Dean and Bobby whipped around, saw Sam's prepared form, determined face, and then turned to the spot Sam was staring at so intently. Two demons, part of the gang, they all assumed, stepped out of the shadows. Their only weapons were their eyes, and they went right through the trio.

The taller one stepped ahead of the other. He had a crooked nose, pale skin, deep blue eyes, and a scar from the top of his lip running diagonally across his cheek. He snarled.

"What do you want?" Dean called out, aiming his rifle of rock salt at him.

"Calm down, Dean Winchester. We want nothing but the boy." Dean set his jaw, and glared at the two, then over to his brother, who met his gaze.

"My name is Matthew." He eyed up Sam and Dean and how they had been staring at each other as if they were up to something, then over to Bobby, who kept his stance. "And this is Thomas." He beckoned to the demon behind him, who lifted his head slightly. He was darker skinned, olive and tan, with bright green eyes and very blond hair. He looked young and innocent and Sam cocked his head slightly in confusion. He looked good, not like the typical demon.

"All we want is Sam Winchester." Thomas stepped towards Matthew and stared at Dean with a solemn face, as if he were on some sort of...mission.

"Yeah, well, you're not getting him." Dean barked, pissed that they were referring to Sam as if he wasn't standing 10 feet away from them.

"A fight is to be expected." Matthew growled, low and deep. "It is a shame that you will lose...miserably."

Dean chomped down on his teeth and gulped visibly. As if on cue, another demon stepped towards them. This one was had a build similar to Matthew's, but he didn't seem to hold the same power that he did.

"Ah, three on three." He declared joyously and threw his hands in the air. "This is going to be...delightful."

"Carlisle, would you please do the honors of...beginning?" Matthew cooed.

Sam was caught off guard. "The town is named after you?"

Carlisle grinned with glee. "I'm so very glad you caught on, Sam. You _are_ the smart one in the bunch."

Dean ignored this comment as Sam pressed on.

"How old are you?"

"312." Carlisle slitted his eyes. "I don't see how this pertains to anything."

Sam huffed and cocked his head again.

"Enough." Thomas interrupted. "Shall we?" He drew his hand out and waved it past the trio. Bobby, Dean, and Sam were sent spiraling backwards.

"I'll talk the older one." Carlisle clapped his hands together and advanced towards Bobby, eyeing him up like a slab of meat.

Meanwhile, Matthew was advancing towards Dean, and Thomas towards Sam.

Matthew crouched over Dean, who was fumbling for his rifle. Matthew kicked it away with a grin and Dean shot up.

"Why the Hell do you want my brother so badly?" Dean croaked.

"It is only fair. You killed one of our kind. We kill one of yours. Besides, Sam is special. It is an...added bonus, if you will." He pressed his lips together.

Dean merely swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, trying to push away the panic that was forming.

"Well, you still can't have him."

"We'll see about that." Matthew lifted his hands in the air and swatted them downwards. Dean cried out in agony. It felt like an invisible, giant boulder had managed to drop on Dean. His limbs felt like rubber and he fell to the ground in a heap. Blood poured from his nose. He glanced to his right and saw Bobby, apparently under the same 'boulder'. He twisted and groaned, trying to free himself, but both Matthew and Carlisle had kept them squiggling like puppets. _Sam_. Dean wheezed and turned his head to his other side and saw Sam staring worriedly at him and Bobby. Thomas grabbed him by his collar and slapped him hard across the face, and told him to pay attention. Dean winced.

"We have worked hard for the respect we get around these parts. It will only be increased after bringing you to our side." Thomas growled. His breath felt cold to Sam's face.

"You can find someone else." Sam countered. Thomas merely shook his head, as if Sam should have already understood why they wanted him in the first place.

"We want your powers. The powers you hate so much are what we crave. Use them for what they were meant to be used for, Sam. Evil."

At this remark, Sam lifted his rifle in one swift motion and shot Thomas in the chest with the rock salt. He fell backwards onto the ground and cringed.

"Bastard." Thomas choked out. Sam immediately tackled himself on top of him, and felt the repercussions in his back. The muscles twisted in protest. Thomas was being pinned down by Sam, but he freed his hand long enough to send Sam soaring through the air. He landed with a sickening thump.

"NOOO!" Dean screamed furiously, now trying to wriggle his way out of the invisible hold harder than ever. He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing erratically. Sam was barely moving.

Dean willed his limbs to move. _Damnit, I've got a brother to save._

Sam lifted his head gently, aware of Dean's sporadic movements. _I have to help him_.

He couldn't breathe. It was so painful. He rolled over onto his stomach and coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs. His mind was working overtime, and he was trying to channel any ounce of psychic power to stop the demon trio.

He focused on how badly he needed Dean and Bobby to be alright. He focused on how demons like the gang they were facing now had killed his mother and Jess, and how angry he was because of it. And then he focused on how pissed he was over how much shit these demons had put him and his brother through.

That was when everything stopped.

Dean and Bobby were still trapped under the invisible hold, and Matthew and Carlisle were motionless. Everything had just frozen, as if it were some sort of time warp.

Sam slid on his belly across the rocks, dragging himself like an army man over the dirt. It was done very slowly, and tears were welling in his eyes as he moved, the motion causing him to cry out in pain constantly.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around the Colt in Dean's pocket. As soon as his fingers touched the cool surface, everything started moving again.

Thomas cried out in rage, eyes following Sam's movements like a hawk. Sam rolled over instinctively and shot Matthew and Carlisle in the chests, as they were closest to him.

_Two down._

Dean mumbled something like, "way to go, Sammy" under his breath and rolled over to help his brother. Thomas was now curling his hands into fists and Sam was instantly struggling for air. His lips immediately developed a bluish tint, his face too pale, his movements too slow.

Dean grabbed the Colt out of Sam's hands and shot not once, but three times, sighing heavily as Thomas toppled to the ground.

They were dead. But the fight was not over.

"SAMMY!" Dean called to Sam's lifeless form. The color was returning to his face, but he was not waking up. Dean instinctively ran a hand over his neck and found a faint pulse.

"Sammy, breathe for me." He patted his cheek. "Breathe, damnit."

Sam was not moving, and it was scaring Dean more than ever. His lips were pinkish, his face was getting a more peach-like color, and his pulse was getting more noticeable.

"Sammy...please." Dean was panicking.

"Dude..." Sam croaked, weak and pained, "No need to beg."

Dean smiled from ear to ear and his heart fluttered with excitement against his heaving chest.

"Are you okay?" He said this carefully. He knew that Sam was in so much pain right now.

Bobby limped over to them. "You boys okay?" He looked pale and tired, worn out and aged in just an hour's time.

Dean merely stared down at Sam, who's eyes were fluttering open and closed.

"Is he okay?" Bobby asked, his voice laced with concern.

"He fell...it was...loud..." Dean swallowed and moistened his lips.

"I'm okay." Sam whispered and cleared his throat. In fact, he was not okay. His back felt like it was being held in a vice, his legs felt like they were being held down by bricks, and his chest felt like every rib was snapped off and then shoved back in the wrong place.

Dean sighed tiredly, and lifted his brother in his arms with difficulty. Bobby was there at his side to help him, and despite Sam's groans, they got him to the Impala. It was a long, strenuous walk, but they made it. They always made it.

Dean laid Sam down in the back seat of the Impala and strapped himself in, making sure Bobby was alright to drive before they set out back to the hotel.

Dean started the car and put on some Metallica, trying to let the lyrics wash away the thoughts he was having. Hopefully, Sam would be okay. He seemed so tired and fragile, like a small child, and it worried Dean.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy." Dean assured both Sam and himself.

They sped off out of the town of Carlisle, and Dean winced as he saw the welcome sign. Never again would he step foot in these parts.

He knew that he had to get Sam and Bobby to a hotel so that he could check Sam over. He wasn't going to risk him getting worse. For now, though, he had to focus on getting to the hotel. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently and constantly checked the rearview mirror for signs of distress.

They had another obstacle to overcome, but they'd make it. They always made it.

_TBC..._

**Review, review, review:**


	13. Love

Rain, Rain

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews guys. It means so much to me! I hope you guys enjoy this final chapter. And if you have any plot bunnies for a new story, let me know!

I

"Sit down." Dean barked, pushing Sam gently back down on the bed.

"Dean, I said I was fine." Sam cried out, brushing back the wet hair from his forehead. He had just gotten out of the shower, grateful for the hot water that soothed his sore muscles, and now Dean wanted to check him over.

Dean pulled out the first aid kit and poured alcohol on a cotton swab. He dabbed at the gash on Sam's forehead and Sam hissed at him, pulling away abrupty. The sudden movement sent sharp pains down his back and he flinched again.

"_Fine_ my ass." Dean clenched his jaw and continued patching up the gash. Sam was now squeezing his eyes shut very tightly, trying to ignore the pains that were overtaking his body. He wanted to skip this whole evaluating part until tomorrow. They all needed sleep.

"What happened back there, Sam?" Dean tried to ignore his brother's soft moans of protest, and pressed on.

"Nothing."

Dean threw the bloodied swab in the garbage and pressed the gauze on roughly. Sam flinched away.

"I said nothing!"

Dean pulled his gaze away from Sam and trotted into the living room. Bobby watched his movements as he dug in their duffel bag for a muscle gel from the hospital and pocketed it.

"Did you get it out of him?" Bobby whispered, reclining on the couch. He wanted to relax his limbs, take some time to get his strength back up before he headed out.

"No, won't tell me." Dean shook his head. He just wanted to know what his brother had done back there. One thing, Sam was 20 feet away from him, and then he had his shaking fingers on the Colt in Dean's pocket. Were there more abilities surfacing in his little brother's mind?

"He'll come around. Get all mushy on him, it usually opens him up." Bobby said gruffly and they both let out a slight chuckle at this. Dean glanced down at the ground and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yeah..."

"Go on, Dean." Bobby brushed him away and went back to his little nap on the couch.

II

"Got something for you, Sasquatch." Dean pulled the muscle gel out of his pocket and plopped down on the bed next to him. Sam eyed it up cautiously.

Dean rubbed it vigorously in his hands and then lifted Sam's shirt, careful not to get the gel on it.

"What are you doing, Dean?" He spat out. He remembered Dean doing this in the barn, and he didn't want him to be all touchy-feely if he didn't want to...again.

"What do you think, dummy?" He started rubbing the cool muscle gel over Sam's taut, bare back and rubbed his fingers in deep circles over the muscles. When he was done, Sam let out a weary sigh. Dean pulled down his little brother's shirt and got up to leave.

"Sit down." Sam instructed. The calm, yet fierce tone of his voice had Dean taken aback. He sat down and eyed his brother up.

"What?"

"I don't really know..." Sam started, shaking his head gently. "What happened..."

Dean scooted a little closer and ruffled Sam's hair. "You did something with that freaky head of yours again, that's what happened."

Sam's lips turned up in a small grin and he moistened his lips. "Thomas told me I should be using my 'powers' or whatever for evil."

Dean shook his head and set his jaw. They had had this conversation numerous times. "You're not evil, Sammy."

"You don't know that, Dean. What if it's something I can't stop?" His eyes had lost their fire and he kicked his foot against the carpet.

Dean turned to his brother. "Sammy. Look at me." He waited until Sam turned to face Dean, and he stared into his brother's eyes, clearly waiting anxiously. "You are not evil."

He wanted to go into this whole spiel about the hundreds of times he stopped something evil, tell him it just isn't possible for his little brother to be anything but good, but he left it simple, and it seemed good enough for the both of them.

Sam nodded slowly and laid down to go to sleep. Dean got up and wrapped the blankets around his brother and tucked him in like when they were kids, brushing back the hair on his forehead.

"You need a haircut." Dean grinned sheepishly.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

III

"We'll be seeing you, Bobby." Dean shut the truck door as Bobby waved back at them. Bobby had recovered and was well rested, and decided to go and find another hunt. Dean turned to help Sam with the duffels so they could load up the Impala.

Sam was as good as to be expected. Some soreness, bumps, bruises, trouble walking. It was all normal, but he was a strong kid and he would get over it. The demon gang was gone for good, and there wasn't much more to worry about. They still had a war to fight. It just wasn't over. There are always going to be demons out there for them to fight, but they're going to fight them together, as Winchesters.

Dean loaded their stuff in the trunk and shut the door for Sam as he hopped into the passenger seat. Dean turned the car on, started the engine and started blasting the same AC/DC song that had been playing when they first started their journey. They didn't quite go full-circle, but they were close.

Sam fidgeted in his seat and rested his head against the headrest. Dean continued driving, eyeing up the same twists and turns.

"Where are we going, Dean?" Sam asked. It was just routine. He didn't want to wake up in some strange town and not know why they were there or how they got there. Dean had a habit of going to places completely not part of their hunt.

Dean remained silent for a few moments and turned the music up higher, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"Dean." Sam asked again, more persistently this time.

Dean turned his head to face his brother and wiggled his eyebrows like he usually did when he was up to something.

Sam waited.

"Do you really have to ask, Sam?" He sounded like a little kid again, all excited and hyped up. It was almost contagious.

"Yeah, Dean. Where are we going?" _Almost_ contagious.

Dean left the silence in the air for a moment longer.

"Dude, I'm going to bang Alyssa."

_fini._


End file.
